Valentine's Day in the Castle
by The Miserable Mistress
Summary: Hello everyone! Here, I am going to write five romantic one shots about couples of your choice for Valentine's Day! So pick your type five and tell me. The couples need not be canon. Review me and let me know which couples you want. Rated T just to be safe. I can't wait to write for you guys and I love writing prompts.
1. Chapter 1

Hello Septimus Heap fans!

I once wrote for this fandom under another name. I don't know what made me think that now would be a good time to return to fanfiction-something I never anticipated I would do again-but, for various reasons, here I am, pulling my Heap books out of the closet for one last hurrah. This is a Valentine's Day project. I intend to post about 5 oneshots with couples of YOUR choice. If you don't make suggestions, I don't write. I will pick the top 5 most popular choices based on your reviews/PMs and write one- shots about those couples. The couples need not be canon. In fact, I rather enjoy it when they aren't. There aren't that many canon couples in the books anyway. I think there was something implied between Jenna and Beetle in Fyre and Septimus and Rose as well but that's all I can really remember. I remember that the majority of the members of this minute fandom were lovable and very encouraging. It will be a pleasure to write for you desire it. I'm not afraid to write a chapter that is M rated if you guys really, really want it. I'm grown now after all! Well trying to be anyway….it seems like just yesterday I was that 15 year old kid who loved writing fics more than anything. I hope it proves as fun as it did when I was writing on this and other fanfic sites. Please leave your requests. I'd very much love to write stories for you all. Cheers!


	2. Never Forget

**AN: The most votes I received over private message were actually for Marcia/Marcellus. The runner up pairing (only by one vote!) was Milo/Marcia. All I can figure is that you guys like Marcia :/ Not a bad thing. But I was thinking and realized that there is a way to tie the two pairings together. This is an experimental Marcellus/Marcia oneshot. I enjoyed writing it but it isn't really that fluffy. If you guys really like the pairing enough, I will write a fluffy one as well. Currently, people have asked for Marcellus/Marcia, Milo/Marcia, Septimus/Rose, and one for Tod/Beetle. Since there seems to be such a demand for the Marcia pairings, I don't mind writing more than one Marcia/Marcellus oneshot if you all want it. I like writing a variety of love stories, some fluffy, some tragic, some in-between so let me know if that works for you. Thanks so much for reading and I hope you like it!**

Never Forget

The pain is indescribable. He can't stop looking, can't stop remembering. He wants it all to disappear. This could be so easy if the blasted pain would just vanish. Hadn't he been through enough in his five hundred years of existence? Couldn't the world just leave him be for once? He remembers all too well those days before Septimus had come into his life, the days during which he was too decrepit and weak to even shuffle across the floor of his own bedroom. Today, for the first time, he misses those days. He wishes he had an excuse to stay in bed, perhaps to remain in bed forever. His reason for wanting to escape the comforts of his dreary, cavernous home is gone now, lost to him in a flash and all because he didn't have the courage to say what he needed to say when he should have said it. He notes ironically that this will be among the happiest days of her life and, simultaneously, one of the most trying of his. Today is Saturday, today is February 10th, today, he, Marcellus Pye, Castle Alchemist, is attending the wedding of ExtraOrdinary Wizard, Marcia Overstrand to Captain Milo Banda.

Marcellus dresses splendidly as usual. He wears his ceremonial Alchemist robes, just as he did for the wedding of his apprentice, Simon Heap. The gold buttons that line the front of his tunic glimmer spectacularly in the flickering firelight and the red and black colors on his robes render his appearance both dramatic and slightly breathtaking. Marcellus knows he is handsome; indeed, it is something that he has always known. He knows that she once thought so as well. He recalls perfectly the afternoon he passed in her company the previous summer. They had spoken for hours, initially about business naturally, but their conversation had swiftly drifted to other matters and had ultimately been nothing short of delightful. While they spoke, he noticed more than once the way that she had looked at him and the way that, when he paid her a compliment on her own appearance-only the once!- she had blushed and glanced away from him. Milo Banda had ruined that conversation as well, Marcellus remembered. Marcellus has found himself so taken with her that he had felt close enough, bold enough, to ask what it was about Milo that pleased her so. The question had naturally brought an end to their enjoyable exchange and Marcellus had returned home, wondering if she would ever speak to him again. She did, of course, but only about matters of Castle business. When they spoke, he couldn't help but notice that the Castle seemed no longer to hold her interest the way that it once had. Her passion, her zealous desire to improve the lives of all of the citizens of her city, had slipped away and been vanquished by….what? A desire for a more domestic life? Was she tired of leading? A longing to travel the world with the man whom she had apparently loved since she was a mere child? Neither option seems in line with her character and it puzzles him.

Marcellus sighs and glances at his timepiece. He knows that he should be getting on. He is supposed to meet Septimus in half an hour. He knows that he should be more focused, should be prepared to have this conversation with Septimus before the wedding, the one in which he knows that Septimus will remind him that, "No ExtraOrdinary Wizard has remained in his or her post for very long after marrying. They become consumed in their marriages and that's just it." Septimus knows he will be next. He is Marcia's only apprentice and entirely beloved by her. For some reason, the thought of working closely with Septimus doesn't please Marcellus the way that he expects it ought. He knows that he will miss Marcia. If Milo takes her away from the Castle, Marcellus knows that there is a chance that he might never see her again. He finds himself selfishly wondering if Marcia would care if she never saw him again. Is he the only one so affected by all of these possibilities? The thought leaves a worm of discomfort snaking its way through his stomach.

Marcellus remembers the first time he admitted-only to himself of course-that his feelings for Marcia are not a thing of his imagination but rather real, overwhelming sensations that threaten to strip him of his dignity and even of his concentration. It was the day on which Septimus, at the tender age of fourteen, was meant to return to the Wizard Tower after having spent a month working under Marcellus's supervision in the Alchemie chamber. When Marcellus and Septimus had been unfortunately stuck in an ancient moving chamber, Marcia had become terribly concerned for Septimus' safety and had rushed to the chamber of Alchemie despite her distaste for it in hopes of locating her apprentice. Following a series of misunderstandings that briefly led Marcellus and Septimus to believe that the ExtraOrdinary Wizard had been killed in the chamber itself, Marcellus realized that he didn't want to think of what the world would be like without Marcia. He recognized that he had, subconsciously, been thinking of her for quite some time and trying to picture the world without Marcia was rather like imagining a world without color, a sea without fish, a human being without a heart. Thus, Marcellus had come to think that Marcia was essential to life. She gave him something to be excited about, something to dream of when he closed his eyes at night. Isn't that a necessity for all people in some way? Marcellus fed his fixation on Marcia by scheduling weekly teas with her so that he could discuss the Castle. Surprisingly, Marcia had agreed and, as a result of their meetings, the two had, undeniably, become friends. Such friends were they, in fact, that Marcia had begun to tell him about aspects of her growing relationship with Milo Banda. Nothing terribly concrete, naturally, but that was how Marcia was. She had even, more than once, encouraged him to seek the company of her friend, Dandra Draa, with the obvious assumption that the pair of them would hit it off romantically. Needless to say, they hadn't. Dandra was kind, intelligent, and slightly charming in her way and perhaps Marcellus would have given her more thought had he not first encountered Marcia. But he _had_ encountered Marcia and from that encounter stems all of his current grief.

Marcellus brings himself back to the present. He must meet Septimus. That is a simple task. He can handle this day; he can take it one wretched hour at a time until it is finished at last. Before leaving his elegant home on Snake Slipway (the uncontested _nicest _street in the Castle), he glances at his reflection in the mirror. _At least_, he sighs, _my appearance betrays nothing. Let it always be so. _

It takes Marcellus longer than usual to reach the Wizard Tower courtyard. While he walks, he attempts to imagine how it will look. He knows that the wedding is to be held in the Great Hall of the Tower and that a banquet that only Milo Banda could throw is to follow it. Marcellus groans to himself at the thought. The mere idea of Milo Banda making incessant toasts to his new wife and generally carrying on is enough to make Marcellus ill. _Wife_, Marcellus shudders. Marcia will be his _wife_. She will, in a substantial sense, belong to Milo. Marcellus pictures the captain briefly. He is, Marcellus admits grudgingly, handsome but not in the way Marcellus would prefer. The few times Marcellus has been with men they have been men with whom he shares dress sense and tendencies. Milo Banda is far from such a man; in fact, he is as much the opposite of Marcellus Pye as a fellow man could be. While Marcellus is lanky, with a slight frame and a delightful face composed of doe brown eyes, long, lustrous eye lashes, pale skin and full, crimson lips, Milo Banda is rugged and undoubtedly possesses great physical strength, strength with which Marcellus could never hope to compete. Milo can pick Marcia up and swing her about as if she weighs no more than a child, a doll. Marcellus could never hope to do such a thing. Was that what Marcia wanted? Someone who could take care of her after all of those years of taking care of herself? But who then would take care of her mind? Who would challenge her intellectually? Marcellus had no illusions about the fact that he was certainly more intelligent than Milo Banda and it was vastly obvious to any and all who encountered her that Marcia Overstrand was nothing if not a gifted and intelligent woman devoted to her craft. Why then did she not desire to be with someone-anyone-who could stimulate her enchanting mind? Was her sense of carnal desire for Milo so overwhelming?

It is this thought that remains lodged in Marcellus's convoluted mind until he at last arrives at the Wizard Tower. It is glistening brilliantly in the light of this especially sunny day. It is as if the weather has decided to smile upon Marcia and Milo's special day. Marcellus wants to feel happy for her. He tries-that has to count for something doesn't it? He realizes with a jolt that he is suddenly excited. In spite of the circumstances, he is actually looking forward to seeing her again, to perhaps getting to touch her soft, ivory fingers and congratulate her, to bring them to his lips if he feels bold enough…..He recalls with perfect clarity the night of not two months ago, the night on which Milo had gotten "cold feet" as Marcia had put it, and she had surprised Marcellus by coming to him. On that night, he had felt so much of that exquisite, ivory, lavender scented skin against his lips, had heard her sighs_-_surprisingly feminine and light-in his ear and she whispered things she would later deny meant anything to her though he was inclined to believe otherwise. That night, they had belonged to each other and it was that night that had given him hope. He has tortured himself night after night afterward wondering what would have occurred had Milo chosen to permanently forsake his relationship with Marcia. Could she then have considered Marcellus as a lover? Based on that night, this conclusion seems possible. Marcellus shakes himself, recognizing with a jolt that his hands are shaking. Shaking! He looks around swiftly, checking to make certain that no one has observed the Castle Alchemist reduced to such a state. Why is the thought of touching Marcia still so overwhelming? Has he no restraint? He begins to wonder if he is truly more sophisticated than Mr. Banda after all.

"Marcellus! Thank heavens you're here." Marcellus shifts his gaze and spots his ex-apprentice. "You're late, you know." Marcellus nods, a little absentmindedly. Septimus frowns, "Are you all right? You look a bit….well…out of sorts. Have you forgotten the password? Nothing to be ashamed of, I do it all of the time."

The password! Yes, an ideal excuse, "Ah yes, apprentice, I'm afraid you know me too well. I can never seem to remember this damned password, no matter my attempts."

Septimus laughs and Marcellus assumes with relief that his cover story has been convincing. As Septimus escorts him across the Great Hall, the sparkling, sandy floor beneath his pointy shoes greets him _Welcome Castle Alchemist_! Castle Alchemist. The title still feels good to hear. Marcia made him that out of the generosity of her heart. People underestimate how kind she truly is and sometimes that bothers him. He remembers that, on the night she passed at Snake Slipway, she told him of the time she had spent as DomDaniel's prisoner in Dungeon Number One. He had admitted that, had he been in her place, he would much sooner have executed anyone who had anything to do with his imprisonment rather than installing a "second-chance scheme" for them all. Marcia's kindness is often overlooked and Marcellus acknowledges secretly that it is one of his favorite aspects of her character. He could understand if Marcia were denying him in favor of a man who was of the same moral character as her but Milo Banda is no such man.

Septimus is talking, prattling on about his future and how _strange_ it will be to have Milo living in Marcia's rooms on the occasions that he is actually in the Castle. Marcellus is trying not to listen but drawn into Septimus' concerns all the same. Marcellus doesn't _want _to think about Milo living with Marcia but his curiosity is winning this fight-he simply can't ignore Septimus, no matter how much he would prefer to block out anything he has to say about Marcia's impending marriage. At once, there is a pause in the conversation and Marcellus realizes that Septimus is looking at him, expecting him to answer some question that he has apparently asked. Marcellus, for some reason he can't explain, suddenly feels nauseated, "I'm sorry, Apprentice, I didn't quite hear you."

"Its quite all right." Septimus reassures him, "I was just wondering if you've considered the possibility that Marcia might not remain in her post much longer now that she is to be married. I imagine that I will be next to take the position but I'm just…frightened. I'm a man now but I still feel like a half grown kid who doesn't know his place in the world yet most days. I'm not sure I want the sort of responsibility that being ExtraOrdinary Wizard involves at this point in my life. What if I don't take the position? I can refuse, can't I?"

Now_ this_ Marcellus was not expecting. He had assumed that, by this time, Septimus would be making peace with, perhaps even looking forward to, his upcoming term as ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Instead, the boy seems to be more nervous than Marcellus has ever seen him. "Of course you can refuse," he replies, attempting to make his tone as soothing as possible, "But I don't know that you should reject such an opportunity merely because you are afraid. It is only natural to be a bit afraid but you are _talented_, Septimus, and you are the best suited for the job. Marcia would never have selected you for her apprentice otherwise. I would consider it an honor to work closely with you. You've the potential to become a superb leader. Allow yourself time to think on it. Your sister Jenna leads this city. Do you think yourself less competent than she is?"

Septimus shakes his head vehemently, "No, I've worked hard and I'm competent….I just…oh, I don't know, Marcellus. All of this nonsense is going to make you worry about me during the ceremony and I want you to have an enjoyable time. I reckon we should all try to do that at least."

Marcellus immediately remembers the ceremony and his heart sinks. However, before he can remark, Septimus adds, "Oh, that reminds me, Marcia told me that she wanted to see you this morning. Don't know what about but she was a little insistent if I remember well enough. I'm afraid I wasn't as attentive as I should have been. I'll let you go on and see her before she has to start preparing for the main event. We'll speak later."

Marcellus nods, "Certainly. I'll find you this afternoon, Septimus." With that, Septimus departs, probably to meet the Sick Bay apprentice Rose and embark on a lovely conversation. Marcellus is strangely envious and hopes that he has not betrayed his nervousness at the thought that Marcia wishes to speak with him. What could it be about? What would they possibly have to say to one another now? Marcellus knows he probably shouldn't go to see her at all-it will only upset him. And yet, it seems impossible for him to deny her anything. Why is that always the case?

Marcellus can feel his insides churning as he rides the famous spiral stairs up to the landing that leads to Marcia Overstrand's chambers. At once, he wonders why Septimus did not accompany him. Perhaps even he knows that this conversation between Marcellus and Marcia must be a private one. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. _Treat it like one of your Thursday teas_, he tells himself sternly, _This need not be so different from that_. If only that were the case. Marcellus shivers and, feeling as though he is using the last of his strength, he raps sharply on the richly designed purple door in front of him.

He hears her coming but is startled by the fact that she isn't yet wearing her trademark purple python shoes. He knows the sound of those, the exact cadence almost, the charming manner in which they clack across the ground and make her presence known before she herself even appears. Today though, if she is wearing the pythons, they aren't bouncing exuberantly the way that they so often do. On the contrary, they seem to be dragging their way to the door if Marcellus is hearing correctly. When at last the door creaks open, Marcellus finds that the only emotion he can feel properly is shock. Marcia is standing before him in nothing more than a fuzzy purple bathrobe. Her thick, curly dark hair is disheveled and her striking emerald eyes are red, as though she's been crying for hours. _But this is her wedding day_! Marcellus thinks, unable to mask his astonishment. "Marcia," he starts, what on earth-"

Marcia abruptly pulls him into her sitting room and closes the door sharply behind them. "We need to talk."

Marcellus chuckles in spite of himself. Marcia is certainly never one for games. "What about?" he manages.

At this, Marcia hesitates, "I…" For once, she seems to be at a loss for words. Marcellus is astounded. Never had he expected to see her dressed so informally again. That once in his life had been more than he had ever anticipated but now this? She was treating him like an old friend. He rather enjoyed it. If he could not be her lover, being her close friend was an acceptable consolation prize. "Its Milo." She almost whispers.

Marcellus flinches, "That does not surprise me."

Marcia shakes her head, "There is no reason to be so rude, Marcellus. You don't know what I mean at all."

"That doesn't mean that I have to approve of him. Whatever has just transpired between the two of you has made you _cry_. Don't think I don't know it, Marcia. Look, I'm tired of the formalities between the two of us and I can't help but infer that you are as well based on the fact that you've invited me to your private chambers while wearing your bathrobe and fuzzy slippers." Marcellus stops, realizing with horror that he has said exactly what is on his mind and had been far from his intention. Something about seeing her so distressed has loosened something in him, caused him to feel braver and bolder than before. He looks at Marcia and notes that her eyes are brimming with tears and that her cheeks are growing pinker with each second. "I'm sorry," he says quietly and it occurs to him that he can't recall the last time that he apologized to _anyone_. She certainly has an effect on him. She casts her eyes away from him and stares pointedly at the window opposite. The sunlight catches her eyes and gives her hair a deep shine. He thinks that he has never found her more beautiful than he does at this moment.

She must sense it because her eyes come up to meet his, emerald exploring deep brown, searching for answers to questions with which even he is unfamiliar. She is not even attempting to conceal her tears now, "It was over my last name." She hisses with a bitterness that Marcellus has not previously observed in her. "He wants me to change it. He insists that he will see me as less _his_ if I retain my own name. I do not intend to marry in order to become _his_. I rather wanted a partnership, not some foolish situation in which one of us _belongs _ to the other." Marcia pauses and her shame at this grand display of honest emotions seems to catch up with her. "I'm dreadfully sorry that I subjected you to all of this, Marcellus. It was really nothing. I'm just constantly surprised by Milo. I know he cares for me but I don't see why it matters that I want to keep my own name. I like it. Its unique and its entirely mine. That ought to count for something I think. Aside from that though it makes the most sense given my job and all. It would be incredibly strange to change my name after twenty years in the job." Marcia sighs heavily, "I sometimes feel as though he doesn't have any regard for my feelings at all in situations like this. I know that he must but somehow we end up…" Marcia trails off. "Good heavens, what _am _I going on about? None of this truly matters. I'm ashamed to have brought it up actually. It definitely is _not_ why I asked you to pay me a visit."

Marcellus shakes his head, sadness filling his breast, "I wish it had been. I sometimes wish that we could discuss matters like this, Marcia, things that matter to you, I mean. I want to be of help if I can be. You see, I do so care for you-"

For the second time this morning, Marcellus is cut off, "And that is why I've asked you here today," Marcia says, assuming a tone of authority as best she can in her current state of undress, "Marcellus, I'm not sure that it is a good idea for the two of us to see each other more than necessary in the next few months."

Marcellus almost chokes, "What?" he splutters.

"Its about what happened between us two months ago when Milo left. Frankly, Marcellus, I've seen you differently since then and I don't think that I want to continue to view you that way after I'm married. It just…confuses matters. I'm sure you'll agree."

Marcellus' heart is hammering in his chest. She has just acknowledged _that _ night, something that he has never honestly believed she would do. What's more, she admitted that it affected her, perhaps in the same way that it affected him. "Marcia," he starts, "I don't see why that ought to jeopardize our friendship. I do consider you a dear friend now and I can't imagine not coming to tea. What happened that night was a manifestation of…" Marcellus gulps as he realizes that there is no turning back now, "of what I feel for you. I suppose I wanted to comfort you but I also wanted to show you that what I feel for you is different from what _he _ feels. Time and time again he has made you feel inadequate. I wouldn't."

Marcia's confusion quickly hides itself behind a mask of coldness that slips over her features and takes him by surprise. "Are you suggesting I marry you instead?" she asks, incredulously.

Marcellus stands his ground, "Given the choice, yes. I love you, Marcia. You don't want to hear it but I do. I love our conversations, I love your wit, your charm, your delightful mind. I could talk to you for years and never grow tired of it. I've lived quite a long time and never known anyone like you. You're one of a kind. I'm old enough to know that and I don't think_ Milo Banda _does. He only sees that you're beautiful but he doesn't even see _that_ as clearly as he should! He complains about parts of you, Marcia. When I saw you,-all of you- for the first time, do you remember what I said? I meant it and you _know _it and yet you're willing to sacrifice so much for someone who doesn't even seen that." Marcellus is breathless and blushing but he doesn't care. He has done it. He has managed to tell her the truth. Somehow, even in spite of her upcoming marriage, this thought gives him some relief. "Marcia, you don't have to marry me or anyone but don't marry him. Please. Marry someone who truly sees that you're the most incredible woman whose ever walked the earth. I can't have been the only one who has noticed."

For once, Marcia is silent. Her gaze finds the floor, the ceiling, her window, her worn purple armchair-anything that isn't Marcellus at that moment and Marcellus knows why. He knows that she is admitting to herself that at least some of what he has said has resonated with her.

Finally, she looks at him and shakes her head, "Marcellus, don't be daft. You don't love me and you must forget that foolish night. It shall be easy to forget entirely if only we allow one another a bit of space for while." Her voice is detached, as if he is speaking to a robot rather than the most vibrant, passionate creature he knows. He knows then that he has lost. She was moved doubtlessly but it wasn't enough and it never will be. Her love for Milo Banda is far stronger than even he realized. He doesn't remember much about the way that he leaves Marcia's rooms, only that, as he turns to close the door behind him, he looks her, levelly, in the eyes and she stares back into his eyes, unflinchingly. As he takes in the sight of her beautiful form, her adorably huge eyes filled with some mixture of powerful emotions that he can't identify, he whispers, "I'll _never _forget."

The rest of the day is a blur to Marcellus. He recalls later that Marcia was beautiful and the ceremony splendid but, when asked to describe what she was wearing, he realizes that he can't. It doesn't matter. In the months after the wedding, Marcellus respects Marcia's wishes. He avoids her despite his longing for her company. One day, he can contain himself no longer and walks to the Wizard Tower, treading through the thick snow in his thin pointy shoes only to discover upon arrival that Marcia retired the previous week and had, apparently, moved out of the Castle entirely. Marcellus wonders why she didn't find it in herself to at least inform him of her plans to move and to abandon the job that once seemed to fill her with utter contentment. Marcellus sinks into bitterness and grows to hate her, always contemplating the fact that she allowed Milo to alter her, change her for the worse. In Marcellus' eyes, she has cheapened herself by marrying him. For two years, she never writes, never bothers to get in touch at all and Marcellus has begun to wonder if he will ever cross her mind again. Then, the worst happens. The sorcerer, Oraton-Marr attacks the Castle with forces that the Castle simply cannot match. She returns though, naturally, to defend the place she loves most in the world. Marcellus hears about her heroic deeds each day while he tends to the sick and wounded citizens, safe behind the walls of the Ramblings. Their city is being destroyed but it is Marcia who gives them hope. Despair eventually even reaches Septimus but it seems unable to impact her at all and Marcellus is reminded of everything that is beautiful about her. His heart emerges from its hateful shell and is once more filled with admiration and adoration for the Castle's spunky Ex-ExtraOrdinary Wizard. People tell tales of how her husband insists that she can't wear her shoes into battle and she looks at him and laughs, much to his annoyance and the amusement of any listeners. Marcellus hears these stories and feels both entertained and sorrowful at once. It is a strange combination for one to experience.

At last, he sees her again. Sarah Heap brings what initially appears to be a badly injured child to him, an individual curled into a strange position who has to be carried by two men, neither of whom is her husband, the husband who could not bear to see her ghastly injuries for more than ten minutes without becoming ill. Her blood is dripping all over the floor and Marcellus knows before he even looks closely that it is too late. When she is placed before him, he looks into her eyes, just as he had so long before, and gasps in dismay, "No, no", he cries, and he hears his voice catch, "No, Marcia, darling, I'll protect you, I'll fix this." He is rambling and knows it. He also knows that what he is saying isn't true, no matter how much he wishes that it were. He curses the world that seems determined to take her from him in every possible sense. The realization that he will now never have the chance to rekindle their friendship begins suddenly to set in and his eyes fill with tears. In response, Marcia tries to smile at him, "Don't cry, Marcellus," she says softly, "I've been waiting a long time to see you again. I have something important to tell you and I don't want to waste the time that we have." She takes a deep breath and cringes as another wave of pain emanates from the deep wound in her abdomen. The sight of her in pain overcomes Marcellus and, despite her warning, he begins to sob openly. Marcia reaches up gently to wipe his tears away and then leans toward him with all of the energy she has left, "Marcellus, I'll never forget." She whispers passionately and then, to his astonishment, she kisses his ear, takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes. The world, he knows, will be empty without her.


End file.
